Dreams
by Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora
Summary: As Sandor Clegane lies dying, he rememberes his sister and his lost love, Sansa Stark.


_Dreams_

Sandor Clegane was dying. The wound on his leg was festering. Blood seeped out from the infected wounds onto the bandages. Both of his ears were gone, and fever gripped his body. The heat swam in waves, rendering his once powerful body useless. Sandor cursed his brother's men, for their swords had wounded him greatly. He had killed all of them with help of the wolf bitch, who had denied him the gift of mercy Sandor wanted to die, as he wanted to die when he got his burns that disfigured him. He had refused to believe that he would die by something as pathetic as this – an infected wound with fever – but now he had to grudgingly accept the fact. He could not move, as weak as he was, and blood continued to trickle down his face. His tongue trembled with the effort of licking the blood off his left cheek. Blood was good as he could get for wine. Sandor laughed, his hoarse voice echoing in the Trident, and immediately groaned. Pain seared through his limbs. He could barely open his eyes. "Little bird…" he whispered.

Sandor still remembered her face, clouded with fear and misery. Somehow those emotions made her even more beautiful, a trait that his long-lost sister had shared. He wondered where she was now, for the rumors stated that she killed the king – Joffrey Baratheon. Sandor laughed again, ignoring the pain that seared through his entire body. "She couldn't…even look…at me," he wheezed out loud to himself. Blinking, he saw blood-red and golden leaves falling around him. His back was arched to a tree, where he would die, he thought. "That…bastard…deserved death." Sandor remembered how the boy would humiliate and abuse the little bird, with words or with fists. He was a cruel boy, and Sandor wondered if he was partly responsible. He had taught the boy mockery, that was true, but the coldness and cruelness had appeared steadily as the boy grew older.

Sandor was reminded of how his brother had been that way at the same age – only Joffrey had the cunning to manipulate people to believe that he was gallant. Gregor had simply been what he was. As a child, Sandor had hidden out of sight from his brother. He was terrified of Gregor, who was huge for his twelve years, and had wanted nothing else but to disappear with his sister. Then the fear had melted and transformed into hatred after Gregor had shoved his face into the brazier. This time as an adult, Sandor was not willing to allow brutality to harm the girl – who reminded him of his sister, who had been lost to his brother. He had tried to comfort her with truth and words, and sometimes with fear, but the little bird simply could not look at him. He, who had rescued her and who had not told her lies, frightened her. It was because of his face. _"Look at me!" _Sandor remembered the many times when he was disgusted at her because she couldn't look at him. She still wanted to believe in a fairytale with white knights and roses. Like his sister, who had died too young and too ghastly because he couldn't protect her. Sandor had protected the little bird as best as he could – and had failed.

Sansa Stark couldn't kill anyone if she tried. Perhaps people believed in this folly because of her father's execution as a traitor. Blood is blood, as they say. That was why Sandor was feared as much as Gregor. _"Is is a crime to be born a Clegane?" _He had asked the goddamned so-called leader of the Bloody Mummers. His brain couldn't remember what the hypocrite had replied. Now he wanted to ask, _"Is is a crime to be a traitor's daughter? Is it a crime to be married to a Lannister?"_ Although he had been furious about Tyrion Lannister marrying the little bird, he didn't show it when he heard. Sandor hated the Imp. He didn't know exactly why – perhaps because the whoreson could have anything he wanted, be it riches, women, wine, or food even though he was disfigured and hated across the Seven Kingdoms. Sandor had to fight for what he wanted, even when he was Joffrey's sworn shield. Women and whores alike would not look at him, nor bed him. The little bird was not alone in that respect. Sandor did not care for titles, land, or riches. He only wanted to kill his brother, who was the woe of his misery, and even that would be denied to him because he was dying.

He wondered where the little bird was now. She had disappeared the day the Imp was arrested for the king's murder. Where would she go, Sandor thought sluggishly. He had dragged the wolf bitch, her sister, around the South to search for her. He had wanted to trade the wolf bitch for the little bird. He had wanted to take her somewhere safe. Sandor remembered how he had offered to take her home, and he knew that the only reason why she didn't go with him was because she was afraid of him. He wanted to laugh, but his mouth was slack and he couldn't even speak anymore. _"I only know who's lost. Me." I lost you, little bird, _Sandor thought. His eyes stung and he closed his eyes to keep the tears at bay. _I lost you to the Imp, the Lannisters, to this fucking war. You're now lost to me as my sister was. _

He remembered that it was his sister who had told him how the House of Clegane had been raised to knighthood. It was she who had told him the words, "a hound will die for you but never lie to you." She had taught him the words of Clegane, loyalty and death. It was she who had told him about white knights and roses. She had been as innocent as the little bird had been. Tears now rolled down the wounded warrior's face, marring his blood. _"A hound will die for you but never lie to you, Sandor." _His sister's voice echoed in his head, soothing him as she had done many years ago. Her voice had been sweet and high with a soft timber – like Sansa Stark's voice. _"I will never lie to you, my dear Sandor. I will die for you if need to be." _Sandor remembered his childish self at four years old without the scars, without the burns, and without the hate. He remembered telling his sister that he would die for her too. _I wanted to die for you, little bird. _His tears came freely now and he shook with violent sobs as he remembered the sweet song that his loving sister had once sang to him. He had taken the song from the little bird as well. _I will never have you, and I cannot not protect you. _The man remembered years ago when he cradled his sister's head in his arms, severed from her delicate body. At twelve years old he had been forced to watch Gregor fuck her. Like his sister, Sandor had done nothing as Sansa bleed from her wounds.

"_You will die not from a sword, but a wound."_ The maegi had told his nine year old self. He had come for medicine to change the burned side of his face, but had his fortune told instead. _"You will die protecting your lover. She will weep for you."_ The maegi had said that Sandor would not kill his brother, so what she said must have been true. It must be true. He would find his little bird wherever she was. It did not matter about his past; the fact that he murdered his mother when he was born or that he couldn't protect the only person he loved. Sandor Clegane would find Sansa Stark. At that moment, Stranger's scream startled him from his feverish thoughts, and he heard the thudding steps of someone walking towards him. Sandor reached out toward his savior with renewed determination to live.


End file.
